


Worth It

by swooning



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swooning/pseuds/swooning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life happens in the midst of war, despite our best efforts to rationalize it away. Laura is sick, but she'll make the most of whatever time she's got left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

Time passed, and as it did it pressed and weighed. It made its incremental disappearance known in sly ways. A glass, starting full, was emptied. A drowsy, regretful glance turned into a nod, and then sleep. That next treatment was the one that made her throw up, violently and without warning. Pale and startled, gritting her teeth, she took a rare shower after she returned to the cabin. She did not indulge in a scream. Vomiting had not helped. The nausea stayed on, surreal in its intensity, like nothing she had ever experienced.  
  
On the fourth day afterward, she held down some broth. Toward evening, a cracker. The next morning she woke ravenous, filled with relief, and had toast and tea and got some real work done.  
  
That night, the Admiral returned home after his stint on the bridge to find the President curled up on the couch with a book, already dressed for bed, looking something like her own self. The wave of feeling that broke in him at the sight didn't show on his face. He gave her a nod and proceeded to make himself comfortable, dumping reports on his desk, pouring himself a drink, and after a moment's hesitation taking his jacket off.   
  
Laura let her eyes wander over his back and shoulders, appreciating the meaty heft of him with a different kind of hunger than the one she had so welcomed earlier in the day. When he joined her on the couch, she folded the book over one finger and tilted her head with a smile.   
  
"You're quiet. Rough day at the office?"   
  
He chuckled and sipped at his drink. "Not all of us got to leave early for so-called 'doctor's appointments.' So what did Cottle say?"   
  
"Right on schedule. Two more days until the next treatment." She leaned over and faced the book down on the table, prompting a little frown from Bill.   
  
"Did you eat already?"  
  
She nodded. "Everything I could. It doesn't taste right. But I was just so happy to keep it down."   
  
"You look better. Too thin. But you're getting some color back."   
  
When she lifted a hand to her face he intercepted it, curling his fingers around hers. She brought his hand up instead, and he turned it to trace the sharpened curve of her cheekbone. Cupping her face carefully he leaned forward and studied her for a moment before lowering his lips to hers in a soft brush of a kiss. When he pulled away her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly. Her fingers trailed up his arm until she was holding his bicep, at which point her eyes fluttered open. She stared at Bill's arm as if entranced, as she followed the line of his muscle with her touch.   
  
"How about you, have you eaten?"  
  
"Yeah. Laura..."  
  
"Mmm?" She looked up at him again, blinking a few times, as if she were coming out of a daze. "Sorry, I was a little distracted." The slow smile she gave him left no room for doubt as to the nature of the distraction.   
  
"Really?" Bill narrowed his eyes, considering.   
  
"Mmm. Yep. Is that a problem?"   
  
"Is that a challenge?"  
  
They laughed together and leaned in again, stopping just short of kissing again. Their eyes met for a moment and Laura swallowed hard and bit her lower lip. Bill stopped short at her hesitation.   
  
"Laura, are you sure you're up to this? I mean, we don't have to-"  
  
"Bill! Yes, we do have to. Really. We do. It's so past time."  
  
He circled one of her wrists with his fingers, overlapping them and holding her arm up like evidence. "I'm worried about you."  
  
"I won't break." She scooted over, pushing his other arm out of the way and sliding on to his lap. "Look. I'm only saying this once. Are you listening, flyboy? I feel as good as I'm going to feel, right now. This moment. In two more days it's a whole new deal. I can't guarantee-"  
  
"Don't say that."  
  
"-that I'll ever feel this good again. So please." When he glared, said nothing, she took his face between her hands and looked down at him. "Please. Don't make me beg."  
  
"Maybe I wanna hear you beg." He tightened his arms around her, shifting his hand down to cup her rear end. Laura giggled, her nerves showing.   
  
"I love you," she whispered, astonished at her own bravery. "Please. Make love to me."  
  
Bill's jaw tightened, and he breathed out heavily. "Gods."   
  
After a moment of thick silence, he pulled her head down roughly and took her mouth, molesting her lips with greedy enthusiasm. When he finally tried to pull back, to slow down, Laura shifted to keep her lips on his. She teased and nipped until he moaned and resumed his attack. The next time he pulled away it was only to shift the focus of his assault to her neck, where he nuzzled and worried at the sensitive skin until Laura started to make the mewling noises he had correctly anticipated she might. Still, she was not rendered completely insensible yet. This much, they had already done, although not yet with the specific intent of going any further.  
  
"Bill."   
  
He ignored her, moving his lips down to her collarbone and using his jaw to work her robe and nightgown slightly to the side for better access.   
  
" _Bill_."   
  
"Mmm. What?"  
  
She shifted in his lap, smiling indulgently, tugging at the straps of his tanks to gain more of his attention.   
  
"Not on the couch. We're not teenagers. Let's go to bed." When she stood she wobbled for a second, and Bill reached for her quickly to steady her. Concern was written on his face again, and doubt which she quickly dispelled. "I'm not feeling sick, my knees are just shaking. It's been a long time. And I'm... a little nervous."  
  
"You shouldn't be."  
  
"Still."  
  
He took her by the hand and led her towards the bunk, stopping along the way to pull her bathrobe off with quick, impatient movements.   
  
"You don't forget how, Laura. Like riding a bicycle."  
  
"Sex is nothing like riding a bicycle. Unless you know something I don't, which I suppose is entirely possible."  
  
Bill tossed the robe over the nearest chair and turned back to her. Slowly, deliberately, he looped one finger around the thin strap of the nightgown she wore, the floral silk that had been with her since Caprica. The rough slide of his finger up and down against her shoulder was a distraction of the sweetest sort, and after a moment Laura closed her eyes and let his attention envelop her along with his voice.   
  
"Just hearing you say that word is enough to get me worked up."   
  
"Mmm, which word? Bicycle?" She was being coy now, remembering the feeling of power these moments held. The outcome was inevitable, but the pacing was anybody's game.   
  
Lips again, shared breath and a slip of the tongue, a surprise attack because her eyes were still closed. She gave in, leaned in, and let her body mold its shape to the curve of Bill's chest, his belly, his thighs and the bulge between them.   
  
"Can we at least have the light off?" she said when he released her mouth. Her voice had gone soft and new, higher but huskier at the same time. It was pure arousal.   
  
"Not a chance."   
  
He tugger her closer and sat down on the edge of the bunk, standing her between his knees and looking up at her. The intensity of his gaze was almost too much; she felt her heart start to pound even harder, and marveled that such a thing was possible. Tension, hot and cloying, pooled behind her nipples and between her thighs, giving her away entirely. She was too keyed up to care about sounding undignified, and she squeaked when Bill dragged his hands from her hips up to her breasts, brushing her nipples into even stiffer peaks before dipping his head to suckle at one aching bud through the silk of her gown.   
  
Words failed them both then, at least words that would have made sense to anyone else. Lovers' words were all they could manage, 'I love you,' and 'There,' and 'Oh, Gods,' and 'Oh, yes.' Laura had planned to pull the covers back, do the thing properly, but she wound up rolled beneath Bill's half-clothed form, naked and writhing as he worked his way down her stomach.   
  
"We need to fatten you up," he commented, tracking his hands across her ribs. His mouth was exploring the tender skin just above her left hip, and Laura was whining softly with need.   
  
"We need to get you undressed, too," she responded, more lucid than he had thought.   
  
"Not yet."  
  
"This isn't fair."  
  
"Tough."   
  
He continued downward, working a leg between Laura's knees and nuzzling her core. She knew his intention and had planned to stop him, but the temptation of his hot breath against her was too great. Instead she gave in to his none-too-subtle pressure, and spread her legs wider. It was an embarassingly quick thing, a lick here, a suck there, a finger at her entrance, slipping through the folds that were already slick with want. Her cry and the quick flex of her hips as she came almost swept Bill up in their wake, and he cursed softly at the ache of the thwarted impulse even as he soothed her down from her climax with more gentle stroking and tender kisses. Risking a glance upwards he saw her eyes were closed, and her brow furrowed as if she were concentrating. Then she spoke, so softly he couldn't quite make it out.   
  
"What was that?"   
  
"The last time that happened was over three years ago." She shivered and a little hum of pleasure worked its way from her lips to Bill's soul. "I don't mean the last time I had an orgasm, I mean the last time... oh..."  
  
He had ducked his head down again and drawn her clit between his lips, sucking and flicking his tongue over the still-sensitized flesh in an excruciatingly slow rhythm.   
  
"Bill, please."  
  
"I want you to enjoy it."  
  
She laughed, almost sobbing, and tugged at his hair with trembling fingers. "If I enjoy it any more I'll pass out. I want you inside me,  _now_."  
  
"Laura," he said, trailing kisses up the delicate flesh of her inner thigh, "I haven't done this in over three years, either. I mean I don't think I'll be-"  
  
"-yeah, yeah, it'll be fast the first few times or so, gods, I don't care. Just take. Your pants. Off."  
  
"Just get the job done, ma'am?"  
  
"Don't make me issue orders."  
  
"I won't if you won't."  
  
He had worked his way back up, and now braced himself over her, admiring everything he saw. Laura had enough room to unfasten his belt and uniform trousers, which she did immediately, forcing the layers of fabric down his hips as far as she could reach. He obligingly shoved them off the rest of the way, hissing as his cock sprung free of his boxers. The hiss turned to a wordless cry when Laura wrapped her hand around his shaft and met his eyes with a wicked smirk.   
  
Bill was distracted by the swatch of silk that had slipped slightly askew over Laura's forehead, green foliage tracery over a creamy background. Reaching a hand up, he gently pushed the fabric up and over the crown of her head, then stroked his fingers over the too-pale scalp beneath. Laura was watching his face, reserving judgment.   
  
"Soft," he commented, and then angled his hips forward slightly into her hand. The moment slid past, she gripped tighter and drew one fingertip through the bead of moisture that was gathering at the tip of his erection, and pulled him closer with her legs until he was poised to enter her.   
  
He had been right, it was fast, although Laura came again anyway almost as soon as he reached the depth of her and began to move in and out. The sight of his face, transformed with the intensity of his pleasure, was an erotic thing in itself. So was the simple fact of what they were doing, here in his cabin, after all this time. Keenest of all was the sense of relief at finally, finally satisfying the ravenous skin hunger that had been denied for years. Laura knew it wasn't really satisfied, and that she would have trouble now keeping herself from touching him whenever she saw him. She tightened her legs around his waist and met his kiss as he thrust faster and harder, forgetting that she had seemed too delicate, lost in the rush to climax. When he came he yelled as loudly as if he were in pain, and shuddered as if he would break apart.   
  
When the fog cleared they were still holding one another. Locked in a tableau, the only movement the heaving of their sides, and the random muscular twitches that follow heavy exertion. She was breathing far too hard, she didn't really have the energy. But the look of feline satisfaction on her face made it clear she thought it was worth it.   
  
"I don't ever want to leave this spot again," she murmured, curling into Bill when he finally rolled to the side, relieving her of his weight. Her legs were still tangled with his, preventing his efforts to get up "You have to stay here, too. Everybody can just learn to deal with it."   
  
"What are we gonna do for food?"   
  
"So practical. We can send for food. We can reach the comm from here. You're the Admiral, this is your ship, they have to bring you food if you order it."  
  
"Yeah, but we'll still have to get up to use the head."  
  
She sighed, exasperated. "Spoilsport."   
  
He climbed out of the rack. Watching him, wanting to follow him, Laura sat up too quickly and a wave of nausea swept over her. Lips clenched, she breathed through her nose and waited for it to pass. Bill knew the look too well, and wanted to punch himself for indirectly causing her discomfort. But he knew, too, that he could no longer live without the prospect of seeing that other look again, now that he had seen it once; those lips curled in sultry contentment, lust-heavy eyes locked onto his in silent approval of what they had just shared. He saw her in all her fragility, a shift in perspective that tore at his heart.  
  
Laura sat, winded and dizzy, on the edge of the bunk with her slim legs hanging off the side. Toes not quite touching the floor, hands gripping the covers like vises. The faint outline of her ribs was visible even in the low light, and Bill knew because he had felt them that he could count each knob of her spine. Even without her hair, she was beautiful, but it added to her vulnerability. Too thin, too sick, but the weight of the universe rested on her shoulders as much as it did on his. He felt a sudden urge to barge into a Quorum meeting and start punching anyone who had ever crossed her. It was a dangerous urge, the one temptation he absolutely must not surrender to, to let himself be swayed by either lust or concern into following Laura blindly. Because she depended on him, now more than ever, for balance. Possibly almost as much as he depended on her.  
  
"When I come back I'll bring us both some water," he said. She nodded slightly, and he disappeared into the head, closing the hatch behind him, allowing her the privacy he knew she preferred to deal with what was happening to her body. The treatment that seemed worse than the cure, with only human reason to assure them all that it was not only better but absolutely necessary.   
  
Neither of them had needed more reasons to want Laura to survive. But now they had added this one, selfish and shared at the same time, the simple desire to express their desire again while they still could. It was exhausting, physically and emotionally, and sapped some of the precious little strength Laura had left. It was potentially ruinous for their ability to make impartial decisions. It was a distraction neither of them could afford.   
  
It was worth it.


End file.
